


Ground me, Soothe me, Remind me that you love me

by Miss_Shiva_Adler



Series: Collection of short MOR ficlets [7]
Category: Mozart l'Opera Rock
Genre: Angst, Body Dysphoria, Comforting, Gender Dysphoria, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Shiva_Adler/pseuds/Miss_Shiva_Adler
Summary: Some days you don’t have the poise, the refined braveness or the tools to stand up for yourself.
Relationships: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart/Antonio Salieri
Series: Collection of short MOR ficlets [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/110960
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Ground me, Soothe me, Remind me that you love me

**Author's Note:**

> For Anon, I left it vague enough for it either body dysmorphia or gender dysphoria. I hope you like it and that it soothes a bit.
> 
> (This fic is currently not beta'd, it will be once my beta is back home)

There is a thing about having repetitive motions being set in place. It takes courage and strength. Things he has trained to be : brave, confident, sure of himself. When you grew up an orphan you knew how to navigate the hardships of life and the strenuous feelings of continuous loss. But some days you don’t have the poise, the refined braveness or the tools to stand up for yourself.

He knows from when the moment he wakes up that it’s one of those days. It’s the reason why he had gotten up. The feeling across his skin is like a layer of dirt. It sticks, it makes him feel out of place. It hurts. his footfalls echo on the wooden. He feels the weight of his body by every step, every movement forward. It hurts. The pull of the earth makes him aware of every limb and every piece of skin or muscle that is out of place.

His breathing is ragged, his chest painful of sobs and a sore throat bleeds over a constricted mouth and held in whimpers. He opens the wash closet’s door, knees and legs faltering from his shaking. He should stay in the dark, knows it is better this way when he just feels, but doesn’t see. But it’s stronger than himself, a battle lost from the beginning, a decision he made when he had decided to freshen up. 

He lights the oil lamp. He does his best to not look but eventually knows he will. He wets the towel that has been hanging next to the washbasin. He wets his face, trying to sponge away the sweat. He feels the panic, right there, lurking, not yet spilling over. He stares at the basin, working up the courage to look up at the mirror and be confronted with himself. 

He doesn’t feel Wolfgang entering until his lover walks over to him. 

Salieri’s vision goes dark as Wolfgang puts his hands in front of his eyes, obscuring the pain, the possible hurt, the confrontation. 

And things fall apart as tears wet his closed eyes. 

“Come back to bed, Antonio.” Wolfgang nuzzles his shoulder. “Mi Amore, the world of pain you’re feeling can wait just a bit longer.” His voice is soft and Antonio feels the world spin a little while longer. 

Antonio tries to talk, to speak but Wolfgang lets out a sigh and nuzzles him even more. There is a grounding weight to the Austrian composer. The hug is stronger and Antonio feels the tension go away, he sinks in their embrace. 

“It’s fine Antonio, the plague in your mind is just in your mind, you’re safe here.”

Antonio wants to negate, to say no, to dispute every word. But Wolfgang doesn’t let him, turns him around, kisses him; overwhelms him and his face is framed by hands and love and soft words of tenderness. Wolfgang holds his hand, tears him away from here. Away from the room, away from things that hurt, back to their bedroom, where his sadness can have a place and space. Where he can be held and where things get a bit easier, never _easy_ but easier. 

May he wake up tomorrow, a little stronger, better, less in swaying pain or destructive thoughts. Right now this will do, just for a little longer, until he has his own bravery back again. 

**Author's Note:**

> What's up Moraholics, prompt me at [FuckYeahMozalieri](https://fuckyeahmozalieri.tumblr.com/) I'm picky but I'll always try to compromise


End file.
